Than to be merely sequestered parts ways of ones insanity
To believe or not to Be.
To fail the souls ultimate duty to return to time is death itself
Although of usual tides, to be granted the gift of blinded sight, and painfully shouted messages
To deny such deserves nothing less than death
A muted life un-inked in passages, not even as a passerby
To be nameless but known as such, a heart has no chose but to become dethroned
What would love be?, even harmony? how about peace?
My gut shrews in disbelief of a flounder soul's actual meaning
Attempts are misleading fore realities fight is constant and internal
The war lives within, and claims the ego
The outter, but shallow, an illusion created from womb
Destruction breach peaks of emotions with lasting pain
As I purge my weakness, my spirit weeps for its completion
The journey has thicken as pain arise showing several signs that Change presides
With righteous intentions as hope reprise gratitude's intuition final quest to survive
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